


Horrid Relationship Things

by honeybee221b



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Dancing, Fluff, John wears the pants in this relationship, M/M, because Sherlock is an emotional cripple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-05
Updated: 2013-02-05
Packaged: 2017-11-28 08:43:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/672467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeybee221b/pseuds/honeybee221b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's early days of Sherlock and John's relationship and when Sherlock inevitably tries to push John away, he's ready for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Horrid Relationship Things

**Author's Note:**

> All the fluff! I needed a break from angst and sex. This happened.
> 
> Thanks again to amazing beta [Hidden Lacuna](http://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenLacuna/pseuds/HiddenLacuna), who will never, ever be able to push me away. I won't allow it.

****  
  
"Sherlock, why don’t you calm down," John asked. “Or at least tell me what’s wrong.”  
  
Sherlock stomped through the living room for the fourth time in an hour. He huffed in irritation as he pawed through papers on the desk across from where John sat, working on a blog entry at his laptop.  
  
"How exactly would you help me, John?" Sherlock snarled. "Do you know anything about my filing system? Do you know anything about the chemical properties of anti-fire gases used in computer server rooms?" His voice rose on each question. "Do you know anything?"  
  
John knew Sherlock had been gunning for a fight ever since Lestrade had caught Sherlock softly touching John's face just outside a crime scene two days ago and then referred to John as Sherlock's "hubby." Lestrade hadn't meant anything by it, but it was still early enough in their relationship that they hadn’t acknowledged it to others yet. John suspected Sherlock hadn't enjoyed being caught in a moment of vulnerability and he’d been bracing for a blow-up ever since.  
  
"Don't take your frustration out on me, Sherlock. I am your boyfriend, not your punching bag."  
  
"Boyfriend? Well, that was quick promotion for yourself," Sherlock dropped into the chair across the desk from him. "Anything else you'd like to tell me? What sorts of horrid relationship things are expected of me as your boyfriend?"  
  
"Horrid relationship things?"  
  
"You know -- discussions about 'Where is this going?' Meeting each other's families. Buying you flowers."  
  
John laughed.  
  
"All horrid," he agreed with a smile. "I wouldn't expect you to do any of those things. You could maybe bring me a bouquet of condoms if you felt the urge to buy me something. And nothing says 'true love' like cleaning the kitchen once and again. But, what I've met of your family is quite enough; and I know where this is going."  
  
Sherlock smirked.  
  
"Do you?"  
  
"Yes. To my bed."  
  
"John. I'm trying to have a serious discussion with you."  
  
"No, you are trying to preemptively break up with me and I'll not allow it."  
  
Sherlock looked a bit surprised. He looked at John with a new appreciation.  
  
John had suspected that a firm hand would be needed in a relationship with Sherlock. He was pleasantly surprised to find it was also useful in turning Sherlock on.  
  
"Spot on, am I?"  
  
A slow smile spread across Sherlock's face.  
  
"Very well deduced," he said, almost shyly.  
  
John dropped his voice low.  
  
"Stand up, Sherlock."  
  
Sherlock stood, his eyes fixed on John. John remained sitting in his chair and pointed at the CD player.  
  
"Hit the 'play' button for me, would you?"  
  
Sherlock looked unsure, but crossed the room and turned on the music player. The room was suddenly filled with sweeping, swelling violin. Nothing like Sherlock's playing -- this was sweeter, softer and somehow more feminine.  
  
"Suki Demano," Sherlock said, turning back to John, his confused expression lighting up to understanding.  
  
"A recording of the concert you had to miss the other night. Had to call in a few favours for that one."  
  
Sherlock turned back to the CD player, but John caught the pleased look on his face.  
  
"Buying romantic gifts for each other; that's a horrid relationship thing, isn't it?"  
  
"Yes," John said, standing and moving to the center of the room, "and so is dancing in our living room."  
  
He put out his hand.  
  
"John, I believe Baroque country dances went out of fashion with the 17th century," Sherlock said. His attempt at being dismissive was wasted, though, by the fact that he was moving toward John.  
  
"Good. Then it won't be cliche if we do it," John reached out and gently tugged Sherlock by the hand until they were pressed up against each other.  
  
“Just dance with me like a good boyfriend,” John said softly.  
  
He wrapped one hand around his waist and took the other as they began to sway.  
  
Sherlock rolled his eyes, but kept dancing.  
  
"Well, go on; tell me the rest. What other horrible relationship things will be expected of me?" His voice had lost its hard edge.  
  
"Let me think," John said with mock seriousness. "I expect that we will have great make-up sex every time we fight. Or maybe just great angry sex while we're fighting. I expect that I will have to go on reminding you that you are a human being who needs to take care of himself and I expect you to let me take care of you, too. I expect you to put an end to these half-hearted attempts to get me to leave you because it's not going to happen. And I expect you to keep looking at me in that way every chance you get."  
  
Sherlock had given up trying to look disinterested in the conversation. John could see fear and vulnerability mixed with a breathtaking amount of adoration and desire. Sherlock breathed out and closed his eyes as he dropped his face to John's. He ran the tip of his nose up one cheek and across his forehead and then lightly kissed one eyelid. Their movements had slowed; they no longer matched the music as their hips lazily swayed back and forth together.  
  
"John?" Sherlock said, his lips pressed into John's hair.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I'm a prat."  
  
"Yes you are."  
  
"I am interested in the make-up sex, but," he said in a low purr, "instead, would you be willing to pretend like we are still fighting? I am very interested in that angry sex you mentioned."  
  
John smiled, dropped his hands and sat at the desk. He looked at Sherlock with a passive gaze.  
  
"Sherlock, why don’t you calm down?"


End file.
